Cabaret Boreale was born one dark November eve, deep in the northern woods of Michigan. With paths lit only by the moonlight reflected on the shimmering snow, four musicians emerged from behind the curtain of snowladen branches.
Not a word was spoken as the accordion began to groan, and wheeze its way into unusual melodics. The ground began to tremble as the resonant thrum of tuba and contrabass lurches into rhythm. Cascading and wild like the glitter blowing in the wind, tumbling lines spill forth from an old guitar steam-shipped from Europe, and the banjo bought from an old man from the moors.
As the band spins into captivating and beguiling harmony, an echoing howl rises up from the distance, and rises up from within, as the banshee herself shrieks and warbles the words that have been long since forgotten, recalled on this night for one and all.
We sing to you the songs or yore, the songs that tickle, transport, and bemuse. We’re lost in the sounds we love to dive into and we’d love for you to come along too.